The worlds a cruel place
by ChocolateFrogsForMoony
Summary: A spring afternoon, white gowns, love and hate. In which a young Victor draws pictures of flowers.


**Disclaimer: I in no way own Corpse Bride; it is completely Tim Burton's work. **

**Notes: The other day whilst looking through my channels to see if anything remotely good was on the television I saw that they were playing 'Corpse Bride'. And of course, after seeing it again it rekindled my love for it, so I thought to myself 'Why don't I write a story on it?' It's always something I've wanted to do, so here it is another idea from my odd head. Victor in this story is probably nine, nine and a half years old.**

**Remember the two R's: Read and Review. **

***X***

Bird song hung in the air as the flowers painted the grass different colours; it was a beautiful place to be in the springtime, the trees whistling. Nearby a blue bird tented to her newborns just like the proper pinned Victorian woman dressed in white, with their bundle of love and joy bouncing on their knee. Their lace gowns glowing in the sun, their mother's bright golden curls tied back, a fathers loving smile. Families, it was a beautiful site to witness, the love that people willingly give to each other. A woman in a very tight bonnet and a solemn black coat -even though the weather was warm- sat on a bench talking to her gentleman friend of which she was not meant to talk to.

Children played with large metal hopes rolling them along the grass chasing after them with desperation in their eyes, a group of boys kicked a leather ball to one another. Although the most unusual child of them all was a small thin looking boy, who's eyes were deep with lack of sleep -that was due to hidden monsters that resided under his bed- he sat in amongst the flowers with a small leather bound book on his lap he stared attentively at a bluebell. He carefully sketched the flower; getting the stem the right size and making the hanging 'bells' look as perfect as possible. In neat writing he signed his name at the bottom 'Victor Van Dort', he sighed and with a somewhat content smile closed the book. Standing up he dusted off the sailor suit that his mother had insisted he wear because it was sunny out and he mightn't get the chance to wear it again, he walked over to the woman in the tight bonnet, the woman who had nursed him since the day he was born.

"Adelaide," he said to the woman, who was sitting on the bench smiling to her gentleman caller -the one that Victor's mother had banned her from seeing, because talking to men wasn't her job looking after Victor was. "Can we please go now?" She turned to look at him, her greying red hair was pushed back into her bonnet she looked displeased with him:

"Victor, darling, why don't you go and play with the other boys?" she smiled a toothy smile, before looking back at her lover.

"But I don't wish to, I-I don't mind walking home." Victor said, grasping the leather book in his hand.

"Victor, just this once go and do it?" she said to him with a more forceful tone, with that she turned back to her lover and started talking ignoring Victor. And that was that, he walked back to his usual spot on the grass he looked around him the children smiling so happily. The young girls with their porcelain dolls, talking of a time when they'll get married and have their own children. The boys following the girls, calling them names with a blush. In all honesty, Victor was scared. Scared of what others might think of him, he was not like the other boys, he didn't like playing the same games as they did, Victor was quite content with a good book or his drawings.

Shyness was Victors weakness, he didn't adapt to people that well, he would much rather sit by himself. His mother did try on many occasions to get him to make some friends, for his seventh birthday he invited some of the boys from his school to his home but all they done was, eat his cake and talk amongst themselves. Victor was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the familiar voice of John Stein a burly boy -especially for ten- who would break your bones if he could.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here, its little Victor." John said, looking at his friends behind him "I _really_ like your suit, did your mother pick it out for you?"

Victor stood up not wanting to have any of his insult, '_just walk away Victor'_ he thought to himself.

"Aw, don't go Victor." John chuckled sarcastically his friends chuckling as well; Victor had tears in his eyes he wasn't used to such harassment.

"G-go away" Victor stuttered, clutching his book his knuckles white.

"Or what? Are you going to call your Nanny on me?" This gained another laugh from his friends, he walked towards Victor and started pushing him in the shoulder "Why you're nothing, aren't you?" he prodded him on the shoulder. "C-c-can't e-e-even t-t-talk properly" he mimicked Victor's voice.

"Look John, what's he got in his hands?" A boy shouted from the back of John's small crowd, all the attention was focused to Victor's drawing book, which was snatched away by John's keen hands. He began to flick through the pages, for a moment Victor couldn't tell if he was shocked that Victor could actually draw, but whatever hope he has was gone when a loud laugh emanated from John.

"This is classic, little Victor drawing pictures of pretty flowers." He then took the book up to his hands and tore out every last page, crumpling the yellow pages up and throwing him to the ground. "You're never going to amount to anything Van Dort. You're worthless." With that, they walked away. Although Victor was a shy creature, he tried his hardest never to cry in public, but now tears were flowing from his eyes making tear tracks down his pale checks his dark hair falling into his eyes. _'Why did they do that?' _he asked himself _'I didn't do anything wrong'_. That's when he remember a valuable piece of information his father had once given him "_The worlds a cruel place, sometime you get nice people that you should treasure other times you get cruel people, that you should stay clear from. Pity those people Victor, pity them that they should take their sadness out on you."_


End file.
